“Betcher life, b’gee!” observed Dewey.
“Objection, Mr. Chairman,” said the Parson, gravely. “There’ll be a good many of them, and——”
“The mo’ the merrier!” cried Texas. “I want to fight.”
“Bless my soul!” gasped Indian’s little voice. “I don’t say to. We’ll spoil all the goodies. I say let’s scare ’em off and eat the supper.”
That was the first time the timid fat boy had ever been known to offer a suggestion in council. But this was a very grave matter for Indian; the picture of so many “goodies” being trampled upon by the ruthless combatants was indeed a terrible one. And so Indian ventured a word for peace, even in opposition to that dreadful Texan.
It happened curiously enough, however, that Indian’s suggestion was the one adopted, after all. A little sober discussion soon brought out the fact that Dewey hadn’t the least idea how many yearlings Bull meant to have, and while on paper several plebes might very easily drive off a dozen or two yearlings, it was quite another matter when one came to the actual combat. Therefore, in spite of all the Texan’s indignant protestations, it was agreed that strategy alone was to win this battle. Or, in other words——
“We’ve got to scare ’em off, b’gee!”
But that, too, had its difficulties when you came to carry it out.
The first suggestion was that somebody dress up as a ghost and scare the yearlings away. It seemed as if Providence had lent its sanction to this idea, for the Parson was truly “just built” to play the ghost. In fact, so Dewey said, he was such a fine specimen that it was a miracle that Beelzebub hadn’t appeared and carried him off to Hades before this; the only possible supposition was that he was waiting for the Parson to train down a little for the journey.
All this was irrelevant, and irreverent besides. The ghost idea was squelched by Mark’s observation that the yearlings would probably get on to the scheme and go for the ghost; the Parson therefore declined to serve. Dewey suggested that a few horrible groans from the dark woods might do the work.